


Perfect Blue

by Astra_M



Series: The Scent of Grass and Flowers [15]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Bad Poetry, F/M, Jealousy, Kissing, Reconciliation, Relationship Advice, Relationship Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2020-08-17
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:01:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25956388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Astra_M/pseuds/Astra_M
Summary: “Kinda hard to apologize when you know she’s not going to be in the mood to listen to anything right now.”
Relationships: Nara Shikamaru/Yamanaka Ino
Series: The Scent of Grass and Flowers [15]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1883662
Kudos: 21





	Perfect Blue

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written in March 2008

Shikamaru sighed again for the umpteenth time that morning as he lay on the roof of his house and stared listlessly up at the sky. Sadly, this day’s cloud-watching session was failing to bring him any peace of mind. But then how could he feel restful when the sting from yesterday’s fight with Ino was still so freshly weighing on him?

Some people think I'm gorgeous!

And some people will say whatever they think you want to hear!

It had come out all wrong. At the time Shikamaru had been extremely annoyed, given that Ino seemed to be deliberately baiting him with that irritating nickname Sai had given her. Of course, he’d silently cursed himself as soon as the words had left his mouth. But however he tried to backpedal afterwards, Ino would have none of it, and he just couldn’t find the right words to apologize before she stormed off in a towering rage.

Blast it all, why was Ino always so hung up on things like artistry and beauty anyway?

It had been a trivial argument, too. At least he’d thought it was. Ino had wanted to drag him to an art exhibition, which Shikamaru, who had no use for art in general, already knew he’d find tediously boring. But his lack of enthusiasm was made twice as bad once Ino announced that Sai was going to be present. That was when things took a turn for the worse. Shikamaru bluntly pointed out that he failed to see what was so “artistic” about Sai’s work, given that he seemed to have the same eye for beauty as did the average crayon-wielding toddler - and that had touched off a fiery reaction in Ino. She started defending Sai’s “artistic sensibilities,” and that had set Shikamaru’s teeth on edge, especially once she began implying that Sai’s appreciation for art gave him a sensitivity of soul that was noticeably lacking in his own....

In Shikamaru’s opinion, Sai was, quite frankly, a total ass, regardless of whatever artistic talent he allegedly possessed. And yet he had to acknowledge that Sai possessed a side to him that Shikamaru couldn’t comprehend, much less compete with, which enabled the jerk to speak directly to something in Ino’s heart. Worse, the knowledge that he was completely lacking this dimension was causing him to have doubts about his relationship with Ino. Their passions were so different - and artistic souls should go together, right?

Heaving another gloomy sigh, Shikamaru turned his gaze away from the sky to stare out across the rooftops of Konoha, in the general direction of the Yamanaka flower shop. It was times like this he wished very badly that Asuma were still around. Who else could he turn to for useful advice about women...?

“Shikamaru, your mother’s been looking for you. Didn’t you hear her calling?”

Shikaku was leaning out the window of Shikamaru’s bedroom, regarding his son keenly. Shikamaru automatically tensed as he felt his father’s eyes studying him. He knew what was coming next....

“What’s the trouble, boy? Did you have a fight with your girlfriend?”

Shikamaru groaned. After all those years of disparaging his father’s relationship with his mother, it was aggravating to now find himself in the same position. “Yeah,” he admitted reluctantly.

Shikaku chuckled. Then with surprisingly well-practiced ease he suddenly leapt out of the window to join his son on the roof ledge. Shikamaru raised his brows in shock. He’d never seen his father stretch out on the roof before - Yoshino would have thrown a fit.

“Care to tell your old man about it?” asked Shikaku as he lay back comfortably against the warm tiles and gazed lazily up at the sky.

Resigned though a tad disgruntled, Shikamaru filled his father in on the previous day’s troubles. When he had finished, Shikaku turned to look at his son.

“Have you thought about going over there this morning and apologizing again?”

“Yeah, but I don’t think she’d listen,” muttered Shikamaru darkly. “Kinda hard to apologize when you know she’s not going to be in the mood to listen to anything right now.”

“Ah,” said Shikaku sympathetically. He ran his fingers over his goatee thoughtfully. “In that case, you should try something different. Something she’d appreciate... like writing her a poem.”

For a moment, a wall of silence hung between the two males as the gentle breeze blew across the roof tops. Then Shikamaru twisted angrily to confront his father.

“What?!? Poetry?!? Me?!?” he yelled incredulously. “Pop, are you out of your mind?”

“Use your brain, son,” responded Shikaku in an infuriatingly unperturbed manner. “You said yourself that there’s something in Ino that responds to art and beauty. So instead of dismissing it, why don’t you spend some time thinking about why it’s so important to her?”

A grimace crossed Shikamaru’s face. “It doesn’t matter if it’s important to Ino - I’m no good at anything like that! You and Mom both already know that I don’t have any talent for music, or drawing, or writing, or any kind of artistic thing. I’d be crap at poetry,” he added with a petulant scowl. “Besides that, it’s lame.”

Now it was Shikaku’s turn to sigh. “Listen, Shikamaru. It’s not that I don’t understand where you’re coming from, or that I didn’t once feel exactly the same way about it. But whether you believe it or not, poetry isn’t half so much about possessing some kind of natural literary talent than is it a means of communicating your thoughts.” He gave a dry chuckle. “In that regards, it’s practically custom-made for a man.”

“And just what the heck are you talking about?” wondered Shikamaru in a voice filled with skepticism.

“Poetry isn’t really about using big words or flowery language. It’s about taking your ideas about yourself and the world and then breaking it all down until you’re finally left with something spare, yet still profound. It's simple. It's direct. It's honest. And best of all it lets us express our feelings in a very basic manner... in a way that still speaks directly to her heart.”

Shikamaru said nothing, feeling more doubtful than assured of the wisdom in his father’s words. Seeing the expression on his face, Shikaku sat up and rose to his feet.

“Look, I’ll leave you alone to think about it. Ask yourself what beauty is, and then what Ino is to you. And one last piece of advice, Shikamaru: you’re not as disconnected from your heart as you think you are. At least, not when it comes to her... right?”

He disappeared silently through the window, and as Shikamaru watched him go, his mind began mulling over Shikaku’s comments. He shook his head. Genius he may be, but did his father really think that he was capable of telling Ino how he felt using something as sappy as a poem?

Hoping for insight, Shikamaru turned his gaze skywards again. But as pleasing as the familiar scene was, nothing came to mind. Was it his fault that he liked concrete things? Thinking like this was just too hard, too foreign... aw man, what a pain.

High above a cloud drifted slowly across the sky, and Shikamaru suddenly noticed that it was a pale color today: a light, clear blue that reminded him of Ino’s eyes....

\----------

That afternoon, Shikamaru took a deep breath as he stood outside the Yamanaka flower shop. When he felt reasonably confident, he slunk through the entrance and approached the counter, where he spotted Ino slouching listlessly on her stool. He cleared his throat.

Astonishment filled Ino’s face upon seeing him and she jerked upright. But then as if recalling herself, she quickly crossed her arms and scowled. 

“Hello, Shikamaru,” she said stiffly. “What do you want?”

For a moment, he hesitated as misgivings about this course of action resurfaced. Then Shikamaru determinedly steeled himself as he stretched out his hand. 

“This is for you,” he said simply.

Shikamaru handed Ino a single flower and a folded note, and experienced a momentary surge of panic at the astonished expression that crossed her face (what the heck had he been thinking, giving her some wild, plucked thing in the middle of a flower shop?) But then her eyes softened, and although she wasn’t smiling, he still felt moderately encouraged as she quietly opened the note and began to read:

Ino -

I don't know anything about art.  
But  
I do know beauty when I see it.

Ino paused in her reading to frown. Oh, yeah? And when is that? she thought sarcastically. But then she continued:

It’s whenever I look up and see  
A perfectly blue sky  
and want to lose myself in it...

The same way I do  
every time I look at you.

\- Shikamaru (P.S. I’m sorry)

Ino’s eyes went wide, and she let out a small gasp as her cheeks flushed rosily. Clutching the poem in one hand, she rushed out from behind the counter and threw her arms about his neck. And before Shikamaru knew what was happening, she engulfed him in a passionate kiss.

“Forgiven,” whispered Ino as she broke away. “And thank you, Shikamaru,” she added as she leaned in to kiss him again. 

Happily returning her advances, he made a silent admission to the old man: maybe there was something to this poetry thing after all.


End file.
